Snowbound Seduction (13 page)

‘Thanks,' he murmured with dry sarcasm.

‘No, what I meant was, of course you're not like that. I don't think of you like that.'

‘How do you think of me, Rachel?'

She stared at him, her tongue feeling as though it was stuck to the roof of her mouth and panic riding high. This was so unfair—what did he want of her anyway? One minute he was telling her she could mean nothing in his life, that he intended to leave England at the end of his stay and conduct his life in exactly the same way as before, and the next he wanted her to bare her heart
to him. Well, she didn't want to be in love with him and once he was out of her orbit it would be easier to pretend to herself. Hopefully. Her small chin rose. ‘As a friend, as Jennie's cousin, of course. I thought you knew that.'

‘That's all? Nothing more?'

Anger pumped in much-needed adrenalin. ‘What do you want me to say, Zac?' she asked tightly. ‘That I can't live without you? That I want to make love with you every hour of the next two weeks you're around? You've made it crystal clear how you conduct your life and what you want from a woman, and it couldn't be further from what I want. Admittedly I was still licking my wounds from Giles when I met you, which had coloured my view of the male sex to some extent, but deep down I've always known what I wanted out of life, and it includes marriage and children and the whole togetherness thing. That's just the way I'm made and I don't intend to apologise for it.'

‘I'm not asking you to,' he said evenly, but the classical features could have been carved in stone so hard they'd become.

‘Good, because I won't. I've often envied Jennie her carefree approach to life and love, but I know I'm not like her. I wouldn't survive one love affair after another, not emotionally. And I'm not a career-woman in the full sense of the word either. I like my job but I've never planned for it to be the be all and end all. I want, I
need
more than that.'

‘I know that. It wasn't only me who made things perfectly clear last night. Remember?' he said icily. ‘And I didn't want a lecture on morals this morning, OK?'

Her eyes widened at the injustice. ‘How dare you?' she grated, absolutely furious. ‘I haven't criticised you
for the choices you've made or anyone else, come to it. I've just told you how
I
feel. If you want a woman while you're over here, have a word with sweet little Angel downstairs and I'm sure she'd be only too willing to meet your conditions.'

‘Now you're being absurd,' he bit out heatedly.

‘I think not.' She was so mad she could have punched him right on his gorgeous jaw. ‘She's your sort of woman, after all.'

She watched him take a visible breath, but then moment by moment he regained control of his temper. He even adopted a mockingly sardonic expression, one dark eyebrow raised quizzically. ‘What makes you think you know my “sort of woman”?' he drawled, his tone suggesting he was talking to a recalcitrant child.

Two could play at the cool I-don't-give-a-damn game. Her cheeks burning, Rachel called on all her considerable willpower. Schooling her face from a glare to a superior smile, she struck a nonchalant pose and ticked off on her fingers: ‘Beautiful, independent, unattached, unconstrained, sexy and, above all, willing. Right so far? Shall I go on?'

Only a brief narrowing of his eyes betrayed he didn't like the way the conversation was going. ‘Please do.'

‘Liberated,' she continued sweetly, ‘worldly wise, of course, someone who would be quite happy to share your life and your bed for a few weeks or even months until the thing fizzled out. Intelligent—you would want more than mere physical stimulation from a lover—'

‘Thank you,' he put in with acidic sarcasm.

‘And self-confident enough to bow out when the time came without any tears or regrets, nothing…messy.'

‘And you think there are a number of these paragons
on tap, as it were?' he asked grimly. ‘Just waiting to fall into my bed?'

She met the gold eyes fair and square. ‘Aren't there? The business world is populated by such women these days, we live in a society where the modern woman is able to take what was once a man's world by the throat and live by her own rules. I know lots of women who have put all thoughts of a permanent relationship on hold while they cement their careers, planning to do the family thing when they approach forty, but that doesn't mean they're not up for some fun in the meantime. Jennie's a prime example. She intends to do the baby thing in another decade but not before.'

He was frowning now. ‘What if a suitable man doesn't drop into her lap on cue? Or is she going to magic one up?'

‘Zac, women don't necessarily need a man to have a baby these days, not if they're wealthy enough to visit a clinic.'

‘You mean artificial insemination?'

She'd really shocked him, it was evident in his outraged voice. Good. Rachel surveyed him uncompromisingly. That would give him something to think about. ‘Who's judging who on morals now?' she said in honeyed tones. ‘Would
you
do that?' he demanded roughly.

‘We're not talking about me.'

‘But would you?' he persisted, as if it mattered.

She shook her head, her curtain of hair moving in soft tendrils against her flushed cheeks. ‘No. My personal conviction is that a child needs a mother
and
a father where possible.'

The broad shoulders relaxed a little and he expelled a breath. ‘How the hell did we get onto this anyway?'

She was determined not to give ground. Drop-dead gorgeous as he was, he had more than his fair share of arrogance at times. ‘You started it.'

‘Well, of course I would have,' he said mordantly. Then he smiled. ‘Truce while we eat lunch?'

Did he know the power of that smile? And then she answered herself wryly, Too true he did. But she'd made her point with clogs on. She nodded. ‘Fine by me.' In truth, she was starving despite the huge breakfast, probably due to the long walk in the fresh air. And the nervous energy she burnt up in Zac's company, another part of her mind suggested.

As she walked past him towards the door, she found herself swung round and into his arms. ‘It might be a cliché,' he murmured, his eyes laughing now, ‘but you're beautiful when you're angry.'

‘You're right, it is a cliché,' she said as steadily as she could, considering the delicious smell and feel of him was all around her and causing sensations she could well have done without.

‘And you're a mass of contradictions.' His eyes searched her face. ‘I don't know where I am with you, Rachel Ellington.'

Her heart leapt but she warned herself against the potent charm. ‘Funny, because I know exactly where I am with you.' She looked up at him and smiled before ducking out of his arms. ‘I've caught a tiger by the tail,' she said over her shoulder as she opened the bedroom door and began to descend the stairs.

She heard his deep chuckle and every bit of her wanted to turn round and fling herself into his arms again.

‘I'm no longer a wolf, then?' he murmured softly.

‘Perhaps.' As he joined her on the landing she kept her tone light. ‘Tigers, wolves, they're all dangerous.'

He chuckled again and she smiled too, but as they walked downstairs she knew she hadn't been joking.

L
UNCH
was followed by a lazy afternoon.

The walkers, Angel included, were determined to make the most of the snow and had gone outside to build a couple of igloos. Angel had tried to rope Zac in but eventually admitted defeat when he refused to budge from where he and Rachel were ensconced in two comfortable armchairs close to the roaring fire in the inn's lounge, a couple of drinks at their elbows.

It was very pleasant in the ancient old inn. A gently benign grandfather clock ticked away in one corner and the logs on the fire spluttered and crackled now and again, a perfect antidote to the gently falling snow outside the windows. Whether it was the cosiness of the afternoon or the fact he'd opened up a little to her the night before Rachel didn't know, but after they'd talked about this and that for a while, Zac began to talk about deeper issues—his marriage, the dark, dangerous time when he'd lost his way after Moira's death, other painful, bitter truths.

Rachel listened, knowing instinctively he rarely—if ever—revealed himself in this way, and in the mellow quietness she found it easy to talk too, about her cold, confusing childhood, the dawning knowledge that she was in a family but not part of it, her loneliness and fear
that had accompanied her into adulthood and why her past had made the episode with Giles so devastating. And then silence enveloped them and she sat wondering if he regretted saying so much, because she did.

It was a relief when just as a cold winter twilight caused the landlady to switch on the lights, the others burst into the inn, shouting that a snow plough was busy clearing the road outside. Angel joined them, her lovely face glowing. ‘The main roads are passable but the driver doesn't recommend anyone going anywhere tonight unless they have to, not with it snowing again,' she bubbled, plonking herself down in the chair next to Zac and pulling off her bulky fur-lined jacket so he could receive the full benefit of her generous cleavage. ‘Looks like we're all stuck here for another night at least. Still, we wouldn't have met but for the snow and it's nice to make new friends, isn't it?' Her eyelashes fluttered ingenuously.

‘Wonderful,' said Zac drily as the others joined them too. Soon it was hot toddies all round, and even the landlady came to sit awhile and join in the easy banter that went on amongst the walkers, who teased each other unmercifully most of the time.

Rachel sat quietly, content to listen to the others and watch Zac. He was the sort of man both sexes gravitated to, she thought. Not a lone wolf but definitely the alpha male. Other men wanted his approval and friendship, and women—well, women wanted something quite different. He would always cause a little stir wherever he went, and not just because of his physical attributes, which were impressive, but because of some undefinable presence that set him apart.

A slight stubble was darkening his chin, and during the afternoon while they'd talked he'd removed his
sweater, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal strong, sinewy forearms. He exuded maleness—it was there in every gesture, every movement and it was spinetinglingly sexy. How had a man like Zac Lawson ever come into her orbit and how had she imagined for one minute she wouldn't fall hopelessly and helplessly in love with him? It had been inevitable from the moment he'd smiled at her.

He glanced across at her suddenly, trapping her gaze, and she blushed, conscious she'd been staring. He smiled at her, a warm intimate smile, before someone else claimed his attention.

She was going to sleep in the same bed with him again tonight, lie next to him, hear the quiet, even sound of his breathing and know he was but a touch away. Last night had been bad enough but since then she felt she'd got to know so much more about him. Was she going to regret it for the rest of her life if they didn't make love? Or would she regret it more if they did? She didn't know any more. She only knew she'd never meet anyone like Zac ever again and soon he would be gone.

The thought produced an actual ache in her throat and she swallowed against it, willing herself to come to terms with what she knew. Zac was a love-'em-and-leave-'em man. Whether he would have been that way if his marriage hadn't gone so terribly wrong she didn't know, but that experience had been bad enough to send him severely off the rails for a couple of years and change him for ever. She had met him too late, much, much too late. Horrified, she realised she wanted to cry and fought desperately against the weakness.

She took a deep steadying breath and regained control, picking up her glass with a hand that shook slightly and finishing her drink.

One thing was for sure, if she wanted him to make love to her, the first move would have to come from her after all she'd said in the last twenty-four hours. She cast a hunted glance about the room, taking in the easy, smiling faces of the others before placing the glass carefully on the table. She didn't know what to do. For the first time in her adult life, she really didn't know what to do.

Rachel heard the mobile phone begin to ring but didn't realise it was Zac's until he fished it out of his jeans pocket. With the others chattering and laughing, she couldn't make out what was being said, but she saw his face and that was enough. When he stood up suddenly, she rose too, following him out of the room into the hall where it was quieter and listening in growing consternation as he took the call. She'd gathered the crux of it by the time the call finished and he met her concerned gaze.

‘Your grandfather?' she asked softly.

He nodded. ‘Another heart attack, but according to my father there's no chance he'll recover from this one. He's comfortable but my father's made it clear I need to get home as soon as possible if I want to say goodbye.'

‘I'm so sorry, Zac.' She stared at him, horrified.

‘So am I.' He shook his head. ‘He's an awkward old cuss but larger than life, you know? And with a wicked sense of humour. The two of us have always got on all right. I'll miss him.' For a moment his face was open, vulnerable, in a way she hadn't seen before, but almost instantly the mask was back in place. ‘I need to get to the hotel and pick up my things and find out when the first available flight is. Do you mind if we cut the weekend short?'

Horribly. ‘No, of course not. But the weather…'

‘With the roads having been cleared to some extent, I can make it back once I've retrieved the car, but if you'd rather stay here till tomorrow I can arrange for a car to pick you up.'

And miss precious moments with him that possibly would have to last her a lifetime? ‘No, I'll come with you if I may.' He was already walking to the staircase and she followed him. Once in the room he flung his things together and left immediately, telling her he'd settle the bill with the landlady and then go and see if he could drive the car. If not, he'd ring for a taxi, he added. He'd meet her downstairs.

Rachel stood numbly in the room after he'd left, the suddenness of it all having frozen her senses. After a minute or so she began to pack, her movements automatic. Deal with the practical, don't think, she told herself grimly. He's got enough on his plate without you going all weepy.

Once downstairs, she found all of the men walkers had gone with Zac to help with the car, leaving only Angel and the other women sitting by the fire. The landlady was all concern, making her a cup of hot chocolate and clucking about the dangers of travelling in such weather, although, she added, she'd do the same thing in the same situation. ‘He'd never forgive himself if he didn't try, would he?' she said soberly. ‘Family is family after all, and blood's thicker than water.'

Rachel drank the chocolate and just nodded or shook her head now and again when required as the others talked. It was incredibly, shamefully selfish in the circumstances, but all she could think about was the two weeks they wouldn't have together now. She was sorry about Zac's grandfather, of course she was, but the
thought of saying goodbye to him for good was killing her. Useless to tell herself you couldn't fall in love with someone you'd only known for a few days. You could and she had. Completely and irrevocably.

The walkers returned, garrulous with triumph as they described how they'd worked as a team to get the car out of the ditch and back on the road, and then Zac walked in, tall, dark and sombre. When the goodbyes were being said, Rachel noticed Angel slip a piece of paper into Zac's coat pocket—presumably with her name and telephone number written on it—but she was past caring about the blonde girl.

The whirling snow of the afternoon had given way to just the odd lazy snowflake blowing in the wind when they stepped outside. Zac took her arm as he led her over to the Aston Martin, which looked none the worse for its night in the ditch. He opened the passenger door and helped her into the car before walking round the bonnet and sliding into the driving seat.

Everyone had gathered on the doorstep of the inn to wave them off—for all the world like a couple going off on honeymoon after their wedding reception, Rachel tortured herself. And then the inn was behind them and they were on their way.

‘I'm sorry about this,' Zac said as they picked up speed, but it was perfunctory. His mind was clearly already with his grandfather.

‘It's fine.' Rachel had to fight against the need to touch him. ‘I just hope things aren't as bad as you think.'

‘He's dying, Rachel.' His voice was flat, expressionless, the same tone he'd used when he'd told her about his baby son. She wondered if he always went into close-down when he felt vulnerable, but said nothing more. If
that helped him deal with this and cope with the stress involved in getting to his grandfather in time to say goodbye, so be it.

The journey wasn't as hazardous as she'd expected. The main roads were relatively clear, although great banks of snow sat on either side of the highways and there were still abandoned cars scattered here and there in lay-bys or at the edge of verges or kerbs. The nearer she got to the flat, the more Rachel prayed she wouldn't disgrace herself completely when Zac said goodbye. She'd always known it was going to happen. It had just transpired earlier than expected, that was all.

He'd driven silently for the most part, making the odd comment now and again but nothing that could be called conversation. She supposed there was nothing
to
say, after all. She was just a girl who'd featured briefly in his busy life for a few days. If he remembered her at all once he was back home, it would only be as the one he
hadn't
slept with. Which was something.

When they reached the mews it was to find it still blocked with snow. Someone had cleared a path on the pavement just wide enough to walk down but that was all. Zac parked at the top of the road and turned off the engine. ‘I'll walk you to the door. That path looks pretty icy to me.'

‘No need.' She really didn't want to say goodbye with Jennie and Susan liable to whisk open the door. ‘Unless you want to come in and say goodbye to Jennie?' she added, as the thought hit. ‘She might be in.'

He shook his head. ‘I want to sort out a flight; I'll ring Jennie later.' Something of his urgency left him as it seemed to dawn on him they were parting. ‘I don't want to leave you,' he murmured softly, ‘not like this.'

‘It's all right.' She was amazed she sounded so normal
when she was screaming inside. ‘You were going to have to go sooner or later anyway, we both knew that.'

‘I'll miss you.' He leant over and kissed her mouth. It had clearly been intended as a quick caress but the moment their lips touched, last night's desire flared again, hot and strong. With a groan he pulled her closer, the kiss deepening as he held her against him, his fingers moving to tangle in the silk of her hair.

His mouth was heated, demanding, and she met him kiss for kiss, half-mad with the knowledge she was losing him. No one had ever made her feel like Zac did and she knew no one would ever again, but there was no chance of a future for them. Even if he had stayed the two weeks—even if he'd stayed two months and she'd shared his bed—one day she would be exactly where she was now, saying goodbye. To give him his due, he had been absolutely straight with her. She had no one to blame for the way she was feeling but herself.

A car passing sent a flash of light into the interior of the Aston Martin and it was enough to cause Zac to freeze for a moment and then lift his head. The golden eyes held hers for a second, the pupils dilated, before he slid back fully into his seat. He drew in a deep breath, raking a hand through his hair. ‘It's been years since I necked in a car with a girl,' he said wryly, his mouth twisting in a self-deprecating quirk. ‘But like I've said before, you're addictive.'

Not addictive enough. Rachel attempted a smile and hoped it came off. ‘I need my case from the boot and then you'd better see about booking that flight,' she murmured, to make it easy for him. ‘I hope the weather doesn't delay things too much.'

Zac opened his door and extracted her case, but when she joined him on the pavement and held out her hand
for it, he merely tucked it through his arm. ‘I'm seeing you to the door. If you break your ankle from here to your doorstep, I'd never forgive myself and I don't think Jennie would forgive me either.'

A broken ankle was the least of her worries.

Once outside the house, Rachel looked up into his extraordinarily beautiful eyes and said with barely a tremble, ‘Goodbye, Zac. It's been nice, and I hope your grandfather does recover against all the odds.'

He'd set the case down on the pavement and taken her in his arms again. Now his brows drew together. ‘That sounds final. Us, I mean. I thought we could keep in touch. Phone, write, maybe? And I might be over here in the future on business again.'

Please don't do this to me. ‘I don't think that's a good idea.' This had to be final for her to survive emotionally.